Chicago Skies
by Firuko
Summary: Exactly one year after the LABB murder cases, Naomi Misora is sent on another big investigation — this time in the mean streets of southern Chicago, where an unlikely thieving criminal is making a name for himself.
1. Reminiscence

**Haruko here! :3 Welcome!**

**So, we're here to begin the first installment of our lovely joint-fanfiction, with Gevanni of the SPK and Naomi Misora of... the FBI (oh yeah and the LABB Murder Cases). We hope you enjoy the chapter written by Haruko, and tune in soon for the next chapter, which is currently being written by the awesome that is Fire!**

**( In case you, the lovely, beautiful, fabulous (okay I'll stop) reader of our fic, have not heard, Fire is writing for Gevanni and I, Haruko, and writing for Naomi Misora. Fear our greatness D )\**

**We hope it's not to short... It looked longer when I wrote it D: but have fun reading nonetheless.**

**DISCLAIMER: We don't own Death Note, the FBI (who the hell owns the FBI anyway?), leather dress shoes, or manila fol— wait, I actually **_**do**_** have some manila folders. BUT YOU GET THE PICTURE.**

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August 22nd, 2003.

It was one year to the date since that day. The day the LA murderer was brought to justice. The day she rushed to prevent the fourth murder while at the same time saving the life of that murderer known simply as B. The day that she would work for the last time under the world-renowned detective L.

And the day Naomi Misora realized that for her, the line of work as an FBI agent would never be the same.

Misora sighed, the rise and fall of her shoulders causing her raven hair to spill down over her face. She tucked a few strands behind her ear and continued reviewing the old case files she'd saved in the office's archives. The murder case in LA had left a haunting echo in her mind that never went away, and had come back around the same time of year. Although it had been a momentous opportunity to work with L, there were too many horrible and frightening impressions that overshadowed it. The bloodcurdling screams and overpowering smell of gasoline had etched their way into her memories, refusing to let her forget the event. Misora couldn't stare into the flames of a fire for very long until she'd begin to feel sick to her stomach. The very mention of dolls always made a horrible connotation to the blood-stained walls and mutilated corpses that served as the crime scene and sent her spiraling down the dark and twisted memory lane. And with each of these memories she saw in her mind the pale, sinister visage of Rue Ryuzaki.

These tormented recollections were interrupted by the loud slap of a manila folder hitting a pile of papers, making Misora jump at the sudden jolt back to reality. Several files fluttered to the floor to join the large mess of papers that were already strewn around her. She stared at the folder, hoping it contained another investigation; one that could distract her from having to think about the aforementioned case any further. Her brown eyes glanced up at her boss, and they quickly fell to the floor. "I-I'm so sorry," she stammered quietly as she scrambled to gather the fallen paperwork.

"How many times do we have to go over this?" he demanded, arms folded. Misora remained silent while papers quickly formed an unorganized bundle in her arms that threatened to give at any moment. She set them aside and moved to the ones on the other side of her. She knew the answer — it had to be at least five times by now — but the question was not meant for her to give it.

Misora's boss put his foot down quite literally on the documents in front of her, barely grazing her hand with a size-10 leather dress shoe. "Forget them," he ordered dismissively, "I'll have some of the cleaning staff sort it out later." Misora bowed her head and stood, letting the papers she had fall loosely from her fingers. "Now I have a big case for you, and I don't want this to be on your mind while you solve it. Understand?"

Misora nodded, relieved that she'd have the chance to take her mind off things and focus her concentration on something productive. "What's the situation?" she inquired, taking up the folder and browsing through the contents. There were over ten police reports, a list of addresses, a description of a suspect by an eye witness, and a plane ticket.

"There've been a string of unusual robberies in the southern area of Chicago — not to say that there's rarely something going on in that part of town — but it's gotten hard to handle. I want you to find this guy fast; he's nearly impossible to track and we've lost too much time and money getting nowhere on this case."

"You're not going to send in someone else to do it this time?" asked Misora, cocking an eyebrow as her eyes scanned the pages. She'd been assigned simple, mindless nothing-jobs up until now, for obvious reasons.

"You're more than qualified," he reassured her. "Besides, you need to get out there again."

Misora wasn't entirely sure that this was true. Ever since the LA case, Raye had been urging her countless times to retire because of the danger she continually put herself in for the sake of her job. Misora had just denied it all, thinking that one case would fade into the dark crevices of her mind like all the other cases she'd helped to solve. But this one had left a permanent scar that she found herself picking at constantly; a scar that just wouldn't go away, no matter how hard she tried to distract herself.

Her boss was halfway out at that point. "Your flight leaves Monday afternoon," he added before disappearing out the door. His silhouette shrank behind the frosted glass window, and Misora sighed solemnly. She took up her shoulderbag and left the pile of papers unattended to walk out of the room, out of the office, out of the building and back to her car. Her boss and Raye and pretty much everyone else she'd talked to were right. It was time to put the LA case behind her and move on.

And although this resolution stirred a small amount of confidence in her, Naomi Misora knew that in time she'd start recalling the horrible incidence sooner or later — she just hoped it wouldn't take a turn for the worse.

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**Read, rate and review please! Thank you kindly :3**

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	2. Just As Planned

**Fire's turn! ^^ **

**-cracks knuckles and shakes out hands- Here's your first chapter with the amazing Gevanni! I'm going to assume most people know his real name is Stephen Loud, and considering this is before the Kira case he is going to be referred to as such. Awkward, I know, but its the way it must be. Fire knows its awkward, but we'll live. **

**This is Fire's first fanfic in a while, so please don't kill her as she weeds out all her horrible bad habits and gets back into the swing of things... And finds her Gevanni-muse. Yeah... **

**With that said, please enjoy this chapter brought to you by me and expect to see more coming soon! ^^**

**DISCLAIMER: Fire does not own Death Note, Gevanni, or Chicago, though she wishes she did. Sadly, it is not so... But she shall persevere anyhow!**

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August 22, 2003

Yes, while an emotionally scarred FBI agent was being given the orders to start a new case, another soul to be affected by this was far off in Chicago. That was a whole four to five hours away on a plane if you were lucky, and even longer by other methods of transportation. It also entailed a time difference of about two hours. So… while the morning was just starting for said FBI agent in Los Angeles and work was just beginning to get into swing, people in Chicago were already well into their daily routine. So the subject of the conversation between Misora and her boss was already on the move yet again.

This date, while bearing relative importance to some people (namely said FBI agent who has been mentioned numerous times before), it did not mean much to the young man by the name of Stephen Loud. August 22nd, the day that he should have started, well, could have started, his sophomore year in college. Well, seeing as he was nowhere near the college he had attended for a brief year, and that he was dressed in attire not befitting your average college student on their way to classes, it was obvious that he would not be attending said college. Which would be the truth, as the young man had other things on his mind at the current moment, and his agenda for the day did not include going anywhere near a school. In fact, the young Stephen Loud was the perpetrator of the string of unusual robberies that Naomi Misora would soon be investigating.

So the young man, walking casually down the street of a business district in one of Chicago's nicer neighborhoods, was in fact beginning another day as one of the many low lives in the windy city. His action plan for the day would only fit to confirm this role, and as he walked down the street wearing the navy blue suit he had secured for these purposes he was reviewing the schedule and the various events that needed to be completed flawlessly in order for this to work. After all, robbing business offices during the day when said places had state-of-the-art security systems was not an easy task, and one mistake could get him in a lot of trouble… It was not as if he hadn't skirted the lines many times before, failed and almost gotten caught in the machinations of his plans. It was just a fortunate thing he was a quick learner with a bit of a lucky streak. Those were two very helpful skills when trying to make it big in matters of questionable legality, especially in a place such as Chicago. Big cities always did tend to be harder to pull of such things, and Chicago certainly was no exception. In fact, the events of the 1920s and the mob probably made it even more difficult because people expected such things.

So the trick for today (and many other days, for that matter) was to make it look like he belonged among the crowd of people going about their business in the field of the businesses in the area. Confidence and the attire he wore would certainly be a helpful aide in this. Besides, most people were so busy going to or from their various business meetings and talking to associates on their cell phones that they weren't likely to take more than a second or two's notice of the young man, and even that would be a stretch. The most that they'd be likely to note was that he was a bit young to be working in a corporation and should probably still be in school (which was true, but he didn't work for a corporation so it wasn't like they could complain). No one, unless they were far too perceptive for their own good would peg him as a thief right off the bat. People involved in their own business were just too involved to give a rat's ass about someone else…

The building in question, his target for today, was coming up, its sliding glass doors currently open as a group of people passed inside, before shutting behind them. No company would want their doors wide open all the time, for that was far too inviting to vagabonds, and during the summer months it caused the great washes of heat to go through the lobby, making it uncomfortable. Which he supposed if they walked around in suits all the time it must already be a certain degree of uncomfortable, as he hated wearing the suit he had forced himself into for the job greatly. It was hot, and stuffy, involved a choke collar of a tie, and limited movement greatly. However, it was the only way he'd get anywhere near his target without being noticed.

It became apparent now that Stephen was not simply going to walk into the company and expect not to be noticed. There was another man a few paces in front of him to whom his pace matched exactly, making sure he was just close enough his entrance into the building would seem common place, not out of the ordinary. Entering directly behind the man would take away from his entrance, not to mention would take him where he wanted to go. You didn't decide to rob a corporation on a whim, and so planning had gone into this. This most certainly was not the first time Stephen Loud had ever entered the building. On the contrary, he had been her several times before. Heists from corporations took time and careful planning after all.

Approaching the door with a sense of finality he made sure to make a final check over his supplies. Sliding a hand inside his suit jacket his fingers grazed the handles of his choice lock picks, the ones that should grant him access to the safes and locks that he was sure to encounter. This corporation wasn't technologically savvy enough for him to have to worry about breaking any electric locks. This just made the job all the more easier for him. If he hadn't been so set in his persona, his guise as an employee of the business he would have allowed a slight chuckle at how easy this was going to be. The glass doors slid open and he walked in, following his tail into the building and making his way into the recesses of the corporation…

And about half an hour later, Stephen Loud slipped out of the corporate office through the same sliding glass doors, with the same controlled and business-like expression on his face, only there was a slight sense of smugness. A smoothly completed operation which had left the perpetrator quite a bit richer and on his way away from the corporation undetected. And thanks to disabling the cameras, he should be safe from any detection by the authorities. In other words, it had gone perfectly. The heist finished, it was time to head home… As much as his current box of an apartment could be considered home.

This was what was going on in Chicago, which would give Misora yet another file on her desk before leaving and the promise of a more interesting case. And left the man who would one day help solve the Kira case with the smug feeling of a job well done.

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**Apologies for its shortness! **

**And here's the part where Fire shamelessly promotes reviews.**

**Review and we shall feel more inspired, yes? **

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	3. An Unpleasant Encounter

**Haruko here with another chapter! -dances- But seriously, folks — if you take one thing from this chapter, let it be said: DON'T STAND ON THE CURBS WHEN YOU'RE IN CHICAGO! Yup.**

**Yet another installment of our lovely fic. Naomi has a dangerous encounter with someone! Read on to find out who! (it should be kinda obvious, actually XD) Sorry that it's just as small as my first chapter. For god's sake, it looks a LOT longer on notebook paper, and on the computer. But I hope you enjoy it, as it'll be soon followed by Fire's chapter!**

**Tune in when Fire and Haruko start to collaborate on chapters! Yes, this is exciting. FEEL THE EXCITEMENT D NOW!**

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Misora arrived at the Chicago airport rather early in the morning — for LA, that is. She bought a large latte at the nearest café, grabbed her luggage from the baggage claim, and boarded the next shuttle on its way to the hotel. She was able to get some sleep for most of the ride until she felt her cellphone vibrate in her pocket.

"Hello?" she answered groggily.

"Going through jetlag, I see."

Misora smiled weakly. "Hi Raye."

"Just checking in," Raye said. "How was the trip?"

"Not bad," Misora mumbled, stifling a yawn. "It's a bit earlier than I'm used to, and Boss knew that. I think he scheduled an early flight just to mess with me."

She heard her fiancé laugh lightheartedly on the other end. "You were never much of an early bird," he said. It was nice to hear him in such a good mood for a change. Things had gotten hectic, what with work and their recent engagement. The two rarely had time for each other nowadays, so the chance to talk as a couple rather than fellow employees made Misora feel just a bit better.

"Mm," she said softly. She could catch a glimpse of the hotel building and began preparing to leave the shuttle. "I'm close to the hotel. I'll call you when I'm settled, 'kay?"

"All right. Be careful."

Misora closed the phone with one hand and placed it back in her pocket. Raye had good intentions, she knew, but sometimes he seemed a bit ... paranoid? No, just on edge and overprotective. But that was one of the reasons she loved him, and one of the reasons she'd happily agreed to marry him.

The shuttle pulled to a stop at the front doors of the hotel, leaning dangerously as it turned the curve of the paved road that reminded Misora of a fast food drive-thru. She waited quietly in her seat while other not-so-patient passengers scrambled to get out of the vehicle as if their lives depended on it. Working for the FBI had helped Misora to see the fast urgent pace of travel in a new light. What was the point of rushing outside? Misora could get to her hotel room just as fast as everyone else, if not faster, if she took her time. When the shuttle was fairly empty, she stood and made her way to the folding door, practically in slow motion compared to everyone else. Stepping outside into the afternoon air, she picked up her luggage which by then had already been unloaded and set out on the curb and walked through the rotating hotel door with ease.

Maybe she was just sleepy or jetlagged, maybe she'd been in a bit of a daze, but there was a time lapse as she suddenly found herself standing at room 213B with cardkey in hand yet without memory of how she'd gotten there. The fact that the room was 213_B_ almost made her want to request another room, but she decided to just deal with it.

After getting settled in her room, Misora supposed she should get started on the investigation right away. Her best bet, she figured, was to go down to the Chicago police station and ask around. On the way down the stairs to the lobby, her phone rang again.

"Lemme guess — Raye?"

"Who else?" Misora could tell he was smirking on the other end.

"I was just about to call." This, of course, was a flat-out lie. In reality, she'd had no intention of checking in until later that evening. But it was best to keep him from worrying about her. She already had enough consciences commenting over her shoulder, especially ones who constantly reminded her of past mistakes. So they managed to talk for a few minutes, just to catch up with each other, when Misora reached the curb of the sidewalk outside the hotel. She was in the middle of her story about the shuttle ride when Raye interrupted her.

"Naomi, where are you right now? I hear street sounds."

Misora blinked, confused. "Uh, yeah. I'm waiting on the curb for the light to change. Why?"

Raye's voice came off as slightly urgent. "Naomi, you're in Chicago. You might not want to stand too close to — "

Misora didn't hear the rest as she turned to face the other end of the block and saw a silver Toyota Matrix swerve around the corner at triple the legal speed limit. The driver, whose face she was able to study only briefly, caught sight of her and steered the car in her direction. What the hell was he gonna do, drive onto the sidewalk and run her over? She jumped back and yelped in surprise as the driver grazed the curb while veering away sharply, sending a wave of street water in her direction and soaking her through her leather jacket and down to her boots. Thoroughly drenched and smelling of filthy Chicago street, she looked up to yell at the driver only to find he was gone.

The screen of her cellphone flickered with static until it burned out with a crackle — it was dead, no doubt. She cursed and decided to march back up to her room, take a shower, and call it a day. Misora was so frustrated and tired that she didn't bother to notice the sound of the police sirens that were pursuing the silver Toyota.

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**BOO.**

**So that's it, really. Again, sorry for the pathetic length... ^^;**

**Review and stuff! :D only our devoted readers keep us going!**


	4. Of Matrixes and Boston

**Hullo again everyone! I apologize to everyone now because my chapter is so late in comparison to how quickly they were coming out before! D: But the evil world of physics captured Fire in its snare of evil and she was unable to find the time, inspiration, or Gevanni-muse with which to finish the chapter (as it was mostly done when I started to finish it!). But it is here now! And I hope you enjoy the chapter and those to come ^^ Action should get more exciting now. **

**Disclaimer: Fire does not own Death Note, Gevanni, Chicago, or Toyota Matrixes... well, her father has one but that's not really relevant. In any case, she does not, wishes she does, and we shall move on without any further ado to the story! **

**Enjoy ^^ **

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The silver Toyota Matrix contained none other than Stephen Loud, professional thief and the current object of Naomi Misora's investigation. Not that she knew that yet… But as to how this pertained to Misora was hardly of any importance at the moment, especially not to the young driver of said car. He was too busy worrying about his own problems at the moment to care much about how this was only going to make it more imperative that the agent standing on the curb find him. Nope, he hadn't the slightest clue about any of that.

Stephen Loud, driving a hotwired Toyota Matrix, was speeding away from the flurry of cop cars chasing him through the Chicago streets. His latest heist had gone off well… for the most part at least. He had made it safely out of the building, but the presence of a certain… blast from the past had made the journey from the building and away rather difficult. Which when push led to shove had led to him needing to hotwire a car and get away. This had led to the police chase, not the fact that he had just stolen quite a sum of money from the company that said car had been parked in front of.

The car itself didn't seem to be the car of anyone important, because anyone important wouldn't be driving a Toyota. They'd have their fancy Mercedes Benz or BMW to flaunt to the friends, not a car so common as a Matrix. It was relatively clean inside, though there were the remnants of someone's lunch scrunched up on the passenger's side, in the form of a bag from a fast food restaurant. The music in the CD player had been some old rock band that reminded him of Boston. The fast beat of the loud music made it oddly appropriate for the fact that he was going quite a bit over the speed limit, which was an accomplishment when driving through the busy streets of the city. But then, a lot of people would clear the way if they heard police sirens (if he was lucky, it made the job of dodging in and out of cars easier). His main goal at the moment was to get lost in a crowd of cars where the silver color and the type of car could get easily lost among others of the same make or that was crowded enough the police couldn't catch it. That would make it easier to slip away.

Spinning the wheel abruptly at a light, the car practically swerved and spun out as he rounded a corner on to yet another street where he would try to set up his escape. This street was far less crowded than the street before, which caused him to curse under his breath as he sped down it, gaining speed to a level that wasn't really anywhere near the speed limit. He had to gain the speed while he could, or he would be a goner here, and he wasn't about to let a simple car-jacking get him thrown in prison when he had such bigger crimes under his belt. That would be an insult to his skills.

As he rounded the corner, however, he noticed the opportunity to enact on an old pastime on the side of the road that would not let him leave it unanswered. There was a woman clad in black leather standing far too close to the curb to be a native of Chicago, especially when that spot happened to be located by a rather large puddle. No one who knew the customs of Chicago's drivers would ever put themselves in such a vulnerable position… So he would have to teach this newcomer a lesson.

With the car still speeding at great measures over the legal speed limit, he raced towards the curb, well, the edge. She noticed him when he got close, probably had when he got around the corner. Sliding up by the curve, he drove through the puddle, sending a wall of water crashing over the unsuspecting woman before he raced off again, away from the police who now seemed to be significantly behind. Dodging between two cars, whose drivers honked angrily, he sped down another street, stopping in a large parking garage. He stopped the car in one of the spots and left it there before stepping out. The car was still running, and now he was running.

The last thing any police officers coming by would see would be a young man walking out of the parking garage who was wearing sunglasses and pulling off a rather thick pair of leather gloves. The gloves themselves would be rather unusual, considering the heat and humidity normally offered in Chicago's climate, but that would give him all the more reason to take them off. There was absolutely no need for them outside. Even then, they had only been there to provide a surface that would not leave fingerprints on the wheel so that he could not be identified. Now that he had successfully left the car in the parking garage, his only job would be to make it home and avoid any suspicion.

As he continued walking down the street to find the bus stop, he could hear the police sirens signaling the police were finally catching up.

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He arrived home some time later, because of a combination of the usual inner city traffic and a route that had been roundabout in getting him home, making sure to keep anyone who might be tailing him confused, and hopefully lose them in the process. The last thing he wanted to do was arrive home and lead the police there. That would be completely unhelpful to his motives. Besides, he didn't really want anyone coming through and messing up the small apartment that he lived in.

Admittedly, his dwelling wasn't much. He hadn't been out on his own for too long, though, and so he hadn't had much time to get it set up and turn it into a dwelling that was more his own. It was a small apartment, not the best that could be found around, but it worked for the nineteen year old who resided there. At the moment, the only furniture it had (besides the kitchen appliances, which had come with it) was a bed, small dresser, and a table with a chair. It was not the most extravagant center of action…

The young man sighed, running a hand through his ebony colored hair as he threw down his gloves and sunglasses on the top of the dresser. Today he had come far too close to being caught for his liking… and that meant his next job would have to be much more carefully planned out.

As he stood by the dresser, he looked down on the array of photographs that were set up in cheap frames on one side of its top. They were of his family… or what had been his family up until he had decided to drop out of college and leave months back. The nine year old girl smiling up at him, her honey colored eyes showing joy despite the sorrow and condition her family had lived in. She stood by her mother… who resembled her in both the hair and the eyes, both sporting the same raven-colored hair that he had, though her eyes were much sadder, had seen more sorrow even as they attempted to mask it with joy. It caused him to briefly wonder how much sorrow those eyes contained now. He barely spared a glance for the elder man in the picture, whose hair was a much lighter shade of brown than anyone else in the picture, but who shared the clear blue eyes that gazed at the photo now. His father… the man he resembled in many ways, had his face set, stubbornly refusing to let any emotion show on his face. It was this face that had caved to extreme anger not that long ago…

He sighed, turning away from the pictures on the dresser and flopped down on the bed, laying there and staring up at the ceiling as exhaustion seeped into his very bones. It was in this exhaustion that he didn't think to look for the picture of his sister that he kept with him always. As he started to drift off uneasily into something resembling sleep, he didn't cast a thought towards what the absence of the picture might bring him in times left to come.

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**Again, hope you enjoyed the chapter! And I hope updates will be coming in quicker succession from now on!**

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**Pwease? You know you wanna... **


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